


Flawed Ideal

by Meatball42



Series: Rare Pairs [40]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Afghanistan, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, M/M, Matchmaking, Multi, Omega Verse, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Psychic Abilities, Red Room (Marvel), Responsibility, Therapist Sam Wilson, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8057977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: “The ideal omega is a fantasy. Don’t try to live up to that; there’s nothing to be gained chasing after a fantasy. Your job is to be the best person you can possibly be.”
  Written for a prompt for an A/B/O universe where omegas were not seen as weak or sex objects or just made for kids, but rather the opposite.





	1. Tony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Katana4544](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Katana4544/gifts).



> Warning: A truly impressive lack of dedication to historical or cultural or canonical authenticity has been applied herein.

The stereotype was that omegas were good judges of character, and like any stereotype there was some rational basis. It was true that many omegas exhibited heightened empathy, understanding of nuance, social intuition, or any of a dozen other measurable personality traits that would help them assess the mate with the best genes to pass on to their children.

Tony Stark was the exception so far away from the stereotype that it made people question the rule.

Tony was one of a long line of omegas, from his father and grandfather to his great-grandmother and back. All of them had been charming, beautiful, and very, very intelligent. And all of them passed on their omega natures and gifts to one or two children.

As soon as he was old enough to understand these things (which, for someone as smart as Tony, was very young), Tony knew that it was his honor to pass on the omega genes to the next generation. Among all the accomplishments he was sure to achieve in his life, one of the greatest would be producing a successor or two, whose work would aid humanity just as all their omega ancestors had.

But he would only sire one or two children. For all that most human men could have children as soon as they came of age, and most women for a few decades, omegas were notoriously infertile. It was only when they met the one whose genes deserved to be passed on that they could conceive.

For all that Tony was brought up in a home where this duty to humankind and the advances that could be made were of the utmost importance, and love and familial affection of very little importance, Tony looked forward to bringing a child into the world. From a young age he began planning how he would foster his children’s gifts and enable them to be the happiest, most successful people they could be. Ever the engineer, he carefully, painfully critiqued the way his parents brought him up and figured out how to  _ do it better _ .

A few years after his parents died, after he took control of Stark Industries, Tony took a few months sabbatical to get a second Masters degree. Honestly, it was simply to get a break from the pressure of running a multi-national corporation; he’d been raised for it, but still, at twenty-three it was a tough job. He bought an apartment near the San Francisco Bay with an easy commute to Stanford, went to his first class, and promptly fell in love.

Tiberius Stone, or Ty, as Tony was soon calling him, was amazing. As if being strong, witty and brilliant weren’t enough, he was also gorgeous and a good conversationalist. He worked hard and partied harder, and before long Tony couldn’t remember what his life had been like without Ty. He barely noticed that he was falling behind in classes due to not wanting to spend any time on any projects besides his collaborations with Ty.

Tony was sure Ty was the one. How lucky he was, to have found him so early in life! They would have decades to be together, to raise their children and have the happy family that Tony never got while he was growing up. He didn’t even care that the anatomical changes he would go through to bear their children could be pretty painful- all that mattered was that this was his destiny, and it was with an amazing man.

All his dreams were shattered when Tony learned that Ty was using his connection with Tony to steal trade secrets, barter for business deals, and commit lucrative white collar crimes. When he investigated further and found out that Ty was bad-mouthing him all around, and everyone thought the omega bitch being led around by his panting tongue was too funny to tell him. When he realized that Ty’s association with a Stark- more than that, his association with any omega, the famously good judges of character- was what had given Ty the leverage to accomplish any of the things he did.

When he realized Ty had never wanted him for himself, but only because he was an omega.

Tony hardened his heart that day. Why should he try to look for a mate when he had so much to give to the world by himself? He was Tony  _ fucking _ Stark, and he didn’t need a man or a woman or even a child.

Tony smashed every expectation he came across. He registered the most patents by an individual in the US, having to found a new company, Stark Solutions, to manufacture the ones his board of directors didn’t want. By the time he was thirty, he was one of the ten most philanthropic individuals in the world. By the time he was forty, he had been featured as World’s Sexiest Man on more publications than any other individual.

By the time he was forty-five, he’d only seriously dated three people, even though he’d met several who had drawn him in that magnetic way that meant his instincts wanted to check them out as mates. Of those three, Pepper was the only one who hadn’t betrayed him terribly.

Some part of Tony still wanted to raise a child, to pass on his gifts to the next generation and watch them surpass everything he’d accomplished. He swore to himself that, if that time came, he’d be nothing less than the proudest parent in the world, and not begrudge or blame his kid at all for their accomplishments. For now, working full-time as a superhero and a billionaire genius taken philanthropist, the time wasn’t right. But with an amazing woman by his side and a group of truly unique individuals fighting along with him, Tony’s heart grew a little stronger with each passing day.


	2. Steve

In 1920, testing babies for the omega gene was commonplace, even among the poor immigrant population of New York City. An omega being born to two non-omegas was rare, but important enough that the American government subsidized testing so that even a poor omega could be raised in a way that would allow them to grow their gifts. 

When Steve Rogers was born, his finger was pricked and the simple blood test performed as a matter of course. However, the testing came back inconclusive. On any other baby, this might have raised some eyebrows, but no one questioned about the Rogers baby. He was sickly, with any number of conditions that might interfere with testing. The doctors told Sarah Rogers that her son would be lucky to reach the age of five.

Sarah was determined that her child would live, and amidst the years of constant struggle and effort that entailed, a single, probably irrelevant inconclusive result slipped her mind entirely.

Years and years later, Steve Rogers came out of the Vita-Ray machine with healthy, glowing skin, unbelievable muscles, and more than a foot taller. Everyone in the room watching the procedure knew immediately that they were looking at an omega in his prime. Some were ecstatic and wanted to praise Doctor Abraham Erskine for his skill at picking out a test subject. Some were horrified to imagine that the army of super soldiers they wanted to fight against the German threat might be all omegas, might die before they had a chance to reproduce- unthinkable! Others, quicker thinkers, realized that the super soldier procedure might  _ make _ omegas, and could be a thousand times more valuable than they’d dreamed.

But all of these dreams were dashed in the next few minutes, where Erskine’s assassination and the loss of the last remaining Super Soldier Serum meant the procedure would never be replicated, for better or worse.

The next few years were a huge change for Steve. He’d always been quick on the uptake, but never strong, or handsome, and while he could be charming, it didn’t have much of an effect on people when it came from his scrawny body. But now, people flocked to him. They wanted to hear him speak, to watch him sing and dance. He raised the country’s morale just by being a public presence. And later, when he truly became Captain America, soldiers wanted to fight with him, wanted to take his orders. They instinctively trusted his judgement and his abilities and fought better when they were under his command.

It was untrue that every incredible person throughout history had been an omega. But enough of them were that people tended to immediately assume things about omegas, and about people who weren’t. Steve, who knew that for all his physical capabilities he had only half the cunning and leadership qualities as Peggy Carter, a normal woman, was uniquely positioned to see beyond these assumptions and see to the heart of people.

For one of Steve’s best qualities, and the one that cemented his status as an omega in the eyes of many despite continued inconclusive testing, was his eye for talent. It was why he was allowed to handpick his own Commandos despite racialized regulations, and why they performed so well, beyond what any one of them could have done on their own.

Steve didn’t think too much about finding a mate. For most of his life, he’d have thought himself lucky enough to land a date, much less a person so incredible that his new (questionably existent) omega genes would acquiesce to reproduce. And in any case, there was a war on. He had better things to think about, or so he told anyone (and there were many) who asked.

The whole truth was that Steve already knew who his mate- or mates- would be. He didn’t have to think about it; it was already there, in the back of his mind, content to wait until their work was done and they could truly settle down.

And then it was all over. Steve went down in the ice and woke up decades later, and the only evidence he had of any omega qualities were the muscles he pointlessly worked out, destroying punching bag after punching bag. He was short with the SHIELD agents he met, and doubted his own ability to tell who was lying to him or who had his best interests in mind. More than that, he didn’t care. His mates were either dead, or old and had moved on without him. He didn’t have anything to live for.

The first moment when Steve felt like himself again was in battle against Loki. His level head returned, the tactical thinking abilities that had made him such a formidable commander, and so too did his clarity of sight. Steve trusted Natasha and Bruce from the moment he met them. Thor he judged as a noble and well-meaning person within minutes. Tony he knew immediately would be insanely valuable as a team member, and with some work, a great friend. It took him only a few words with Clint and a nod from Nat before he accepted the archer’s place at his side.

When Steve marched into battle, knowing that these new teammates were assembling around him, he knew there was a chance for him in the future.


	3. Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: Non-graphic reference to off-screen non-consensual abortion and sterilization.**

When Natasha was three years old, she was one of two dozen omega girls taken from their families across Russia to be trained in the service of their country.

_ “You are special,” _ their teachers told them.  _ “You have gifts. We will teach you to hone these gifts until they are sharper than any knife.” _

Omegas were smart: the girls were taught languages from an early age to ensure comprehension, were taught math and the principles of science and made to memorize architectural schematics until they could maneuver around any structure they entered. As they got older, their memories were enhanced with drugs. They were taught words and movements in patterns that were used by normal humans as manipulation methods.

Omegas were strong: the girls ran, swam, climbed, fought. They learned to dance, to swordfight, to shoot, to jump. Their bodies became brutal weapons, more ruthless than any unfeeling gun.

Omegas were beautiful: the girls learned that information was the most valuable resource in the world, and they were taught how to access it. Many a target would fall to their beguiling eyes, cleverly accented with make-up, clothing, perfume, carefully selected locations and times. The young Black Widows learned how to entrap men and women both until they had their targets eating out of their hands.

Omegas gave birth to more omegas: the girls were told as soon as they had been brainwashed into believing the program that they had the responsibility of creating more soldiers to serve their country. Throughout their childhoods and into their teen years, even as their numbers dwindled, the Black Widows were introduced to the best and the brightest and the most loyal comrades their instructors could find in the hopes that a match would be found and a child or children could be produced to serve the state.

A few of the Widows matched, and were taken off mission rotation until after they’d recovered from childbirth or until their partners had given birth. They were allowed to live with their matches, who of course supported them in their work.

When Natasha Romanova matched with the Winter Soldier, her superiors were enormously pleased. The Soldier was an incredible physical specimen due to the success of the serum that ran through his veins, was one of their top operatives, and was incredibly loyal to the cause. They paired the two agents together for their missions, planning to pull Natasha out of the field as soon as she became pregnant.

But their time together fostered doubt, not loyalty. For the first time ever, Natasha began to question the organization she served, bolstered by the Soldier’s faint memories of a time when he was more than a machine to carry out orders. When they realized Natasha was pregnant, instead of reporting it to their superiors, they ran.

Natasha woke up an unknown amount of time later with hazy memories of loving blue eyes. She was informed that the Red Room had decided her worth as an operative could not be compromised by the possibility of bearing children. It was not something she had to worry about anymore.

While Natasha was shaken to the core, her loyalty held. It was not this blow, but a dozen others that led to her defection.

Natasha joined SHIELD less than a year after leaving the Red Room. She had the solemn word of Clint Barton and Phillip Coulson, both of whom she judged as relatively trustworthy, that she would be safe and treated well by the organization. When she came in, she met Nick Fury, whom her instincts told her was a worthy adversary, but one who was motivated and guided by duty and morality both, not just heartless, misguided loyalty to a dark cause.

Natasha was put to work protecting the world, but this time, she had a say in which missions she went on and what they entailed. She could argue mission goals and pick her methods, request and receive backup. There were a few people in SHIELD who stuck out to her as questionable, but Clint and Phil, now counted as her closest friends, assured her that there were bad apples in every bunch, and sometimes people who you just didn’t like, and that she shouldn’t worry too much. Natasha was unsure, her instincts still warning her, but… she was used to secrecy, and plots, and hidden agendas. Maybe she was seeing something that wasn’t there.

After the Avengers fought together for the first time, Natasha was stationed in Washington with the unofficial mission of acclimating Steve Rogers to the twenty-first century beyond just the technology that he’d taken to frighteningly fast. A lot of that simply meant being a friend to him. It turned out Steve was terrible at making friends, so Natasha tried to help with that.

Being a friend, Natasha had learned from Clint, meant subtly and then blatantly being a complete asshole to your friends.

So after one of the blind dates she’d tricked Steve into going on, he showed up at her apartment and let himself in. Natasha didn’t pull a knife on him, but it was a close thing.

He asked her, half-annoyed, half-accepting that he’d fallen for her prank, that if she was so determined to get him paired off, why did he never see her going on any dates?

Natasha had only felt drawn to one person since leaving the Red Room, and that was Clint, who was already happily married with kids. If it weren’t for the close relationship she shared with him, Natasha might have thought that her omega essence had been taken along with her ability to produce children. Instead, she just assumed that her past had left her too damaged to match with nearly anyone.

She didn’t say this to Steve, of course, who was having enough trouble standing on his own. She linked her arm in his and told him that a guy who couldn’t score himself a second date had no business poking his nose into her business. He laughed and gave up.

Natasha rested her head on his shoulder. Then she gave him a wet willie, because that’s what friends were for.


	4. Sam

When Sam was six years old, his wise omega grandmother took his small hands in her own. She was so old that they were wrinkled and shaking, but her eyes were clear and looked straight into his heart. 

“The ideal omega is a fantasy,” she told him. “Don’t try to live up to that; there’s nothing to be gained chasing after a fantasy. Your job is to be the best person you can possibly be.”

Little Sam nodded so hard his whole body moved with it. Three months later, his grandmother was dead, but he always remembered her words.

Sam had a lot of offers for dates growing up, but he didn’t feel in any rush to date seriously. He was an easy-going kid with a lot of friends, even among groups that didn’t tend to make outside friends. It helped that he subverted a few expectations of an omega; he was good at science, but his grades in math and English could be better, and he was a little weedy until late in high school, nothing like the perfect 10 people expected an omega to be. He had eczema for a while, too, which dried up some- but not all- of his date requests. By the time he finished high school, Sam had been accepted to a good local college for social work, and couldn’t have been happier.

Sometimes his friends or family members would ask him why he wanted to go into social work. Most of them saw it as a dead end job, one that would only lead to Sam being overworked and underpaid, burnt out early and stripped of his optimistic outlook on life. Sam told them that there was a need for strong people, kind people, and if he felt the calling and ignored it then was he really fulfilling his destiny on Earth?

Sam finished college and got a job supporting families with troubled kids. He was only three months away from getting his license to practice when New York City was attacked. Two planes flew over Manhattan and crashed into the Twin Towers.

Like many young men and women, Sam felt a new calling. He went to the Army, but they told him that with so many people trying to join up, an omega like him would likely be placed on a back-up list or allowed to enlist in the National Guard.

Sam didn’t want to stay home when where he was needed was overseas. He tried the Navy next, but he was told that historically, omegas weren’t often put on seacraft that had any chance of seeing combat. Sam wasn’t bloodthirsty or anything, but he didn’t want to be hiding behind the lines, either. He moved on.

When he went to the Air Force, Sam went armed with folders full of research and precedent that showed how omegas in combat thrived and made the soldiers around them better. A the top of his folders was Captain America, leader of the infamous Howling Commandos, an additional jab at anyone who didn’t want to accept a Black omega. With his degree and his status, Sam argued, he would be an asset to any force they could place him with.

Sam spoke; the Air Force listened.

Once he was in, the treatment was more what Sam was used to. Society might be protective of omegas, might have opinions on what an omega  _ should _ do, but once anyone saw that an omega was utilizing their gifts, mostly they did their best to allow them to thrive. The mobilization of a massive number of US troops to the Middle East required a lot of organization, and for a while that was where Sam was able to contribute. But he had signed up to be on the front lines, and he applied for the pararescue division of Air Force Special Operations Command. None of his coworkers were surprised when he was accepted to the training.

Sam’s ability to survey a situation and gain an accurate picture served him well for the next few years. He’d always been good with people, but more than that, Sam could read a room; or, in this case, a field of battle. When the higher-ups came looking for PJs and other highly trained airmen to select for a special new force, Sam was one of twelve men picked.

The EXO-7 Falcon packs were extraordinarily expensive, had a stiff learning curve, and were absolutely incredible. Sam had never felt more comfortable in his life than when he was performing maneuvers with his fellow trainees. When they were given the greenlight to be put to work in combat for search-and-rescue missions, Sam felt that he’d found his place in the world at last.

The only thing better than flying the Falcon was flying next to Riley. They’d been in separate training squads and didn’t meet until they were deployed to Afghanistan. Once they were assigned to the same unit, they gravitated toward each other and were quickly accepted as combat partners. Together, they had the highest rate of success and the highest mission safety ratings of all the Falcon squads.

Outside of duty, Sam felt absolutely content. He was serving his country and saving lives, and once their tours of duty were up, Sam and Riley planned to get married and live somewhere near Riley’s family in Delaware- but not too close.

Riley was a dedicated airman, but he knew that Sam belonged in the sky. Once they’d had a child, something both of them wanted very much, Riley volunteered to stay in the States and raise their son or daughter so that Sam could re-enlist. He’d always wanted to be a coach, he said, for football or soccer, both of which he’d played in high school. For all that Sam was proud of their service and loved being in the Falcon program, he couldn’t wait for their tours to be over so they could start their new life back home.

Losing Riley was the hardest thing Sam had ever gone through. One minute he’d been exactly where he was supposed to be, his mate at his side, and their future stretching out before them, and the next he was flying alone with nothing on the horizon but more war.

Sam lost his taste for flying when he watched Riley go down. Flying the Falcon, which had brought him immense joy, was just a job now, and every day he questioned why he was in Afghanistan. His calling seemed to have deserted him along with the loss of his lover.

Officially, Sam was transferred to the Air Force Reserve based out of Maryland in order to make room for the next round of Falcons to get in the field with updated tech. Unofficially, he was let go for grief and mental health. No one wanted to keep an omega who’d lost their mate in combat, and at any other time that would spur Sam’s desire to prove them wrong, but it was a good few months before he could feel anything beyond his loss.

Time marched on. Sam put both his degree and his experience to use counseling veterans. He earned his Master’s degree. He went on a date or two. He kept up a fitness regimen. But he never got that feeling back, that he was fitting in the mechanics of the world, where he was supposed to be, helping humanity keep going. Not until one fateful morning when his run was interrupted by some asshole sprinter.

Captain America had been Sam’s hero for a long time, before Afghanistan. Now, with the benefit of years and his omega insight, it took Sam less than a minute to judge that Captain America was a great idea, but Steve Rogers was just another soldier, and just another man. When Steve and a woman Sam recognized from the media coverage of New York and took over his guest room, something inside of Sam started moving again.

As he listened to Steve and Natasha talk, the pull surfaced: it was fate that he’d met Steve that week, fate that they’d chosen to come to him. Fate that he hadn’t put the folder of his service record in storage the month before.

Fighting at Captain America’s side made Sam feel like he belonged again. The Falcon pack they liberated from Fort Meade felt like his own wings again, rather than metal he was obliged to strap on. The air felt like his home, and less like the traitorous element that had taken away his mate.

After the Helicarriers came down, Sam followed Steve on a search for possibly the most damaged POW in America’s history. Along the way, there was a racist terrorist web to take down and an American idol to teach about the brave new world.

Sam knew he was the man for the job.


	5. Belonging

They end up at Stark Tower a few days after they finally catch up with Bucky. Sam and Natasha took some serious hits in the last fight, and Steve is more emotionally exhausted than he’s ever been. Bucky is going through some stuff that’s way above Sam’s paygrade; for all of his training and experience in therapy and battle trauma, whatever that man is going through has more to do with intentional damage and chemicals.

Natasha’s taking point there. Steve is in charge of trying to get through to the man behind the training. Tony is in charge of fixing the arm that they had to damage pretty badly to bring Bucky in.

Sam is in charge of making sure everyone is fed and goes to bed on time. Nothing new there, then.

It’s the evening of their second day in the Tower. Sam has ordered in a careful selection of comfort food that will be interesting enough to keep everyone awake. Natasha, Steve, and Tony converged on the common floor to discuss developments, and Sam had to arrange dinner around them. 

Sam has known for years that trawling through a damaged psyche and trying to move the huge mounds of mental garbage that accumulate from too much violence and not enough self-care can be more exhausting than battle itself. This was news to the Avengers, who- surprise, surprise!- are not used to reflection and practicing self-healing. As a result, he’s the most prepared to do what really needs to be done right now.

“Guys, shut up and eat your food.”

Steve blinks at him in surprise. Natasha’s sharp gaze zeroes in on the steaming plates in front of her like she hadn’t noticed they’d arrived. Tony, in fact, still doesn’t notice anything and continues fiddling with the blueprints he’s pulled up on a tablet.

“Hey. Stark!” Tony looks up. Sam points at the plate he’s made in front of the supposed genius. “Brains need a lot of calories to function.”

“I know that,” Tony snarks, but it’s overshadowed by the grumbling of his stomach.

They dig in. Sam, who’s been munching for the last half hour while he waited for them to find a stopping point, takes the time to consider his friends and their host carefully.

Steve looks gray in the face from the stress of caring for his friend, and though he’s eating steadily, with his metabolism he should be shoveling food down. Sam resolves to keep an eye on that and nip it in the bud if necessary.

Natasha hides it better, but Sam can distinguish the cover-up under her eyes. She’s been doing a lot of work to help recover agents and artifacts lost in the fall of SHIELD, and that’s in between helping them track down Bucky. In addition, there’s a certain haunted look that comes over her face every time she gets within a hundred feet of Bucky, and she hasn’t told them why yet.

Sam’s pretty sure he’s observed Tony exhibiting some symptoms of PTSD, but if the man’s teammates haven’t noticed, Sam’s sure as hell not going to say anything. After all, he doesn’t want to be a counselor to these people, he wants to be their friend. Which is sort of negated by what he says next, but he figures that being a sane individual is going to be a full-time job around here.

“Maybe we should take a day off,” Sam suggests. “All this mental recalibration stuff is pretty tiring, for us and for Bucky-” he calls him that for Steve’s benefit even though Sam’s still not sure, completely- “so why don’t we have a self-care day tomorrow? Hot tubs, good food, music, maybe some yoga. Cigars,” he throws out wildly, remembering whose tower they’re staying in. “Maybe a massage. It might help Bucky relax. Less anxious minds have better resilience.”

“Birdbrain and I had a similar thought,” Tony interjected before anyone else could reply, “except it was that all of you need to take a load off. So how about this, you all head over the the back deck and work with what I’ve set up there, and I’ll arrange the team spa day tomorrow.”

Natasha instantly looks suspicious and Steve tries to protest, but Tony waves them off. “I’m in agreement with your in-house therapist, how can you disagree, and anyway I’ve got a feeling about this,” he says seriously. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, but continues to stubbornly make eye contact with the detractors.

Sam pauses. Steve and Natasha have told him that Tony isn’t much for the usual characteristics of an omega. If he’s claiming to have some intuition here, he must be serious; or, playing them all.

Steve is smiling at Tony in a Proud Papa sort of way that makes the inventor snort and look back at his tablet. Natasha’s eyes are narrowed suspiciously, but there’s a spark of curiosity there that Sam knows all too well after the last few months of working with her, and he knows that it’s decided.

Personally, Sam just figures that whatever this is, it’ll be worth grinning and bearing in exchange for the relaxation day tomorrow.

They eat the last of their dinner and head out, too tired for much more conversation. Tony winks at Sam as he exits. Sam doesn’t know if he should feel confident or afraid.

On the ‘back deck,’ a huge patio facing Downtown Manhattan, the lounge chairs Sam saw previously have vanished. In their place are a few sumptuous-looking couches and a long glass coffee table covered in bowls of fruit, platters of chocolate and cheese, and a bucket of ice with a no-doubt expensive wine sticking out the top. When Steve rounds the table, he bends down and picks up a cooler with a dozen more bottles chilling.

“For all your serum-induced needs,” he reads sarcastically.

Gentle but noticeably romantic jazz music starts up, and Tony’s computer speaks over it. “Mr. Stark encourages you to relax and enjoy yourselves. There will be no surveillance conducted on this floor for the evening.”

Sam’s eyebrows go up, but the expected surge of nerves doesn’t appear. Natasha grabs the bottle of wine, plops herself down on one of the couches, grabs three chocolates in one hand, and reclines with a satisfied sigh. Sam looks at Steve, who shrugs and hands Sam a bottle from the cooler before taking one for himself. They both sit next to Natasha and pass around a bottle opener.

“So, we’re really doing this?” Sam asks.

Steve smiles just a bit too innocently. “We’re not on call. We can get drink if we want to.”

Sam rolls his eyes.

Natasha wriggles in her seat and ends up wedged against Steve’s side. “I hate to agree with Tony, but I’ve got a good feeling, too.”

Sam inspects his own intuition. He looks at Steve and Natasha, and there’s no pull in any direction, because he’s already with them. Just in the few minutes that they’re all been out here, their color has improved and both of them are smiling. Steve reaches out and Sam takes his hand, settling them on Natasha’s stomach. She curls one of her hands around theirs.

“Maybe he’s better at this omega stuff than you thought,” Sam comments to Steve.

They all consider that for a silent moment, then burst out laughing. Natasha tugs at Sam until he’s practically on top of her, and they’re just a big mess of arms and legs on the couch.

Sam knows he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.


End file.
